Summary: The discovery of a deep-cover covert
operation doing the Government's dirty work
in plain sight under the guise of environmental
activism and charity projects... And many
other discoveries along the way.
Disclaimer: All X-Files characters and
references are property of C. Carter and Company,
Morgan & Wong, 10-13 Productions and FOX. The
British chick's mine.

Thrown Back - 6/18

7:30 A.M.

"She's a gutsy chick," Langly mumbled as his
incisors ripped into his T-bone. "Her ex is
a serious piece of defective work. A freakazoid
to the nthest power, man. For real, I thought he
was gonna ice *both* of us right in the IHOP."

"The right choice." Langly was about to
elaborate when Margot, all freshly-scrubbed,
and damp behind the ears, loomed up behind
Frohike, all smiles, defining what the word
cheerful disposition means by her bearing alone.
She'd changed back into the skirt and blouse
she'd arrived at their place in, having packed
them neatly into her bag before she and Langly
had taken off.

Slipping Frohike's shoulder a grip, she said,
"Morning, fellas. Nice to see you lads again."

Langly's eyes were pasted to her, and it amazed
him how cheerful she was considering he'd
thrown cold water on her campaign to jump his
bones. Was she a nympho, or what? Sipping oj,
he just kept staring, finding himself wondering
what she would have been like, if he had had
the nerve to have taken her on. He shook his
head a little to clear it. That was one image
of them he didn't need right now; too easy to
get caught up in the thought that had bothered
him since he'd seen her in her slip, and
unbuttoned blouse. The moment of truth had
arrived, and he'd bombed.

Why?

Why? He winced, knowing there were many sides
to his problem.

What had gotten into *her* minutes ago? God,
they'd just met. Maybe she pitied him, after
last night...mercy sex...or, even worse, sex on
the rebound. He backed off from those notions
as though they were two blowguns aimed at his
heart, the poisoned darts a puff of breath away.

Margot eyed Langly then, as though she had read
his mind, and her smile was tight.

"Likewise," Byers said, picking up her friendly
skein, beating out Frohike who looked as though
he had something verbal prepared while handing
her a coffee.

She removed the lid, and smiled her approval
on its being the way she drank it. "Splendid.
Thanks, loves."

"Didn't know what you prefer," Byers emphasized,
"so, we got you scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries
and lightly-buttered toast buttered with light
butter."

"My, such thoughtfulness."

Langly winced, thinking that maybe he could
have been more communicative, *maybe* that is,
if he'd really known how and she hadn't gone so
schizoidal on him. Maybe all the battering she'd
suffered at the hands of Max, and God knew who
else, might be the explanation for her 'wham-bam'
coming on to him. She kept telling him how
'nice' he was. He smiled weakly at her then.

"We got you some oj likewise, Margot," Frohike
said, smiling at her too, and she noticed he
looked rather sly doing it.

Langly polished off his pancakes that were
drenched in blueberry syrup, having gone way
inside himself. "Got my short stack after
all," he said mostly for his benefit.

Frohike settled judgemental eyes upon him.
"You know, Langly, that wasn't the brightest
idea you've ever had, lambing out in the wee
hours the way you did. I thought you knew
better than that. Guess I was wrong."

"Yeah, yeah, rub my nose--"

"It was my fault, Frohike," Margot spoke up,
taking another small bite of toast which had
a little of the eggs topping it. "I insisted
that I was famished, made a right fuss, and,"
she let her eyes linger on Langly before she
finished, "he was kind enough to take me where
I could get something to eat."

Langly's eyes did a bank off Margot's bemused
face, wearing a look of 'why are you covering
for me?'

"Isn't that right, Ringo?" Her eyes prodded
him that he should let her story stand. Little
did she know that there was nothing anyone
could do to make Langly do anything he really
didn't want to. The bacon was 'equisite,' and
she told its procurers so.

"More or less," Langly mumbled into his coffee
cup, deciding he'd let her version stand.
"Good thing too, knowin' the real score, now."
He wondered how his associates would react once
they did.

Margot searched the analytical faces of her
latest allies. Nodding, she held onto the look
of a human Bambi caught in the highbeams of a
tractor trailer, traveling due east along Route
80, on a pitch black night, near Reno, Nevada.
Something she'd had to do, not that long ago,
per Nairn's implicit instructions.

Visiting that supposedly abandoned missile
silo had paved the way for all of her subsequent
decisions. Painful discoveries, she had to
make in order for her to face the brazen truth
about Max.

"Gustin has internal abilities. He can track
me within any given radius because, because
of--" She shot Langly a pleading look. She
still hadn't mastered the ability to trust
herself voicing what had turned into shocking
reality a month and a half ago.

"The capital 'L' barcoded loser's not human,"
he said flatly." Quickly, he amended, seeing
the pain that had welled up in her eyes, "Well,
uh, not altogether, that is. He's sorta like
some quasi-droidal, extraterrestrial-homo sapien
concoction. Friendly R2D2 and Threepio he sure
ain't."

"If you're striving to make sense, Langly, try
harder," Byers spewed, looking like an anomaly
lost in no rhyme nor reason land.

Finding a way then, Margot said, "He's telling
you the truth, gentlemen. I should have told
you everything. I should have trusted my ethics
and not Esther's." Sadly, she hung her head.

Unable to stand it anymore, Langly set his empty
food container aside. He made his way over to
her, and put his arm around her shoulders. She
looked up at him, and he looked at her for a
long moment, unsure of his words, but sure of
his feelings in that instant.

He leaned in tight and offsides her ear to
whisper, "It's gonna be all right. You can bet
the farm. We're in this together..."

Byers and Frohike traded uneasy looks.

After she'd finished telling them what Langly
had neglected to tell Frohike scant hours ago
over the phone, the two were speechless for as
many minutes.

"Ain't that a kick in the pants," Frohike said,
arrowing Langly with his special look he
reserved for him at times like these.

Once the trio was alone, a rippling undercurrent
of dissention soon followed.

"Okay, prophead," Frohike quirked, "now see why
I said what I said over the phone? Don'tcha get
it? She's trouble with a capital 'T,' man.
Pheasant under glass even with the background
checks. We're just liable to get ourselves
really killed this time, *not* virtually."

"No we won't," Langly headed off. "We help her,
we help us too." Ain't that obvious, he was
quick to grasp at, like straws.

"Stop thinkin' with your dick! No matter where
she goes, her ex-man can find her quicker than
we can swipe and mask the resonance of recon
logistics. I say we cut her loose, loverboy.
Ease up on your joy stick."

Langly's eyes narrowed. "Fuck you, Frohike!"

"Don't be a chump, man, just because she slept
with you don't mean you owe her anything."

"WRONG--Doohickey! We didn't do the wild
thing," Langly hurled, the maelstorm having
already formed and flaring from stormy eyes.
Almost having done never counted. "DIDN'T!" he
hissed, exploding like fifty sticks of countdown
TNT. "Who gives a fuck what you think! Kiss
my--"

Langly balled his right hand into a fist, and
aimed it at Frohike's face.

"Langly, please. Calm down," Byers advised,
shaking his head at him. His face a study in
disapproval.

"You gonna make me?" Langly bandied like a
seasoned street fighter, but the fist
disintigrated, and a sheepish look washed
over his face. "Screw it, *I'll* help her by
myself!" Still seething, he spun away from
their tight circle.

"Are you through?" Frohike said calmly, gaping
at Langly, never having witnessed him react
like this before. She must have been something,
the tough nut thought, finding it hard to believe
they 'hadn't' as Langly was so adamant about.

Spinning back around, disgruntled, he looked
from one to the other, then shrugged. "Yeah,"
he said in a low, groveling voice.

To keep peace, Frohike said, "Look, man, I
apologize for drawing the wrong conclusion
about gettin' it on with her, although we know
what we saw."

"Like what?"

"You two in bed together," Byers described,
followed up by a wistful sigh.

"I was there with her like that 'cos she asked.
I couldn't say no--not with those freaky eyes
of hers beggin' the 'yes' outta me." 'Lock
Pickers R Us,' Langly considered, regarding them
with an onery tinge to his eyes. He smiled for
having pegged them true to form.

"Yeah, I bet," Frohike railed with a rough
laugh.

"We just slept, we didn't rock--swear. She had
this rampaging nightmare. Scared her outta her
flippy gourd."

"Okay, okay," Frohike broke in, "I'll take
your word for it, but I still say we nix her.
Bein' near her ain't safe. That's my two cents,
and I'm stickin' with 'em."

"A GIVEN: Her pick of boyfriends gives the
words 'inflatable date' new meaning, but, 'Hike,
if we don't help her, who will? C'mon, guys,
she's the key to the breaking story. Who else's
she got?"

"Well, obviously you," Byers said in a dry tone.

"Thought you of all people would understand,"
Langly said accusatorily, and his temper flared
again. "She's tryin' real hard to deal with
this sick weirdness. CRS in league with Phoenix
used her for her environmental rep., and the
distinguished name she has in her field."

"Easy, buddy," Frohike urged. "You're gonna hurt
yourself."

"POSTULATE: She's got patsy grafittied all over
her--a fact she ain't proud over. They snowed her
good. She wants vindication, wants it bad.

"MAXIM: We help her, we help ourselves. We
break the biggest story we've ever had. It ain't
her fault she fell for their wetwired analog of
a semi-alien poster boy. Until Nairn tipped her,
she knew zip. Now they've set him on her..."
He was on a roll, and wanted to say more, but
additional words caught and he couldn't pry the
rest loose.

Realizing it was pointless to go on arguing,
Frohike warned himself to stop, and gave his
concomitant a critical frown. Was this the
same Langly who'd schooled Mulder: TRUST NO
ONE? Women.... The older man put up his hands
in a gesture of 'cease fire.'

First Byers and Mata Hari; now Blondie and
little Miss 'Snow White.' Pheromone fever was
running high and well, again. Frohike grimaced,
never dreaming he'd see the day Langly went
'ga-ga' over some chick, his balls tied in knots.

"Do you hear yourself, man? She's got you
whipped already."

"Screw you, Frohike!"

"Screw me?"

"It's not like that," the younger, man insisted,
as though he'd read his chum's mind like a
hacked site.

"It's not like what?" Frohike strafed. Vividly,
the cloying mental picture of seeing them
snuggling earlier blazed like a neon sign in
his mind. Despite Langly's dogged denial, he
said, "Listen, punk-ass, you wanna help her,
that's all well and good, but if you think
I'm..." He looked at Byers whose upset face
was the 'go ahead.' "We're gonna stick our--"

"Fine, then don't--like I said, *I'll* help
her all by myself." Langly's face had gone
whiter than it normally was, with flecks of
crimson flaring up along the sides of his jaws.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe he's
right, Langly? It can happen; getting close
with someone. Letting someone get close to you.
Allowing your feelings to cloud better judgment?
Please, do yourself, and us, a favor. Try to
see things rationally," Byers appealed,
extending his hand, which Langly insolently
knocked away.

"Screw you too, narc--save the stale lecture
for yourself next time you wake up in the
middle of the night hollerin' for Susanne!"

"Maybe she's just using you as insurance so
we'll help her." Byers sighed, searching his
friend's angry eyes as though he had him dead
to rights. "She wasn't exactly upfront with us
about Max being able to get to her so easily.
Just think about that for a minute."

The triad were at an impasse, with Langly
flinging words at his confederates as though
insults were the building blocks of live ammo.

"Uh...pardon me, please, for the interruption,
b-but there's something I think you had better
see, and see now."

The men jumped, like someone had just found
them out.

As they followed behind Margot, Langly wondered
how much of the heated discussion she'd heard.
He'd really lost his head, and his tongue had
gone right along with it. When they were
standing at the living room window with her, and
she directed their attention the VW 'bug' and,
more importantly, the person sitting behind its
steering wheel, his heart sank in conjunction
with Margot latching onto his arm.